


Game, Set, Match...

by notenuffcaffeine



Series: The Fourth Wall [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Beacon Hills is on the internet and only half the usual suspects are in on it, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Gen, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Matchmaker Lydia, Researcher Stiles, and scott and derek are just done with all of them, and stiles hunts up who started it, and there's pranks, by getting rid of it, it's just fluffy, sneaky sterek keeping the sterek on the downlow, snoopy peter, the pack has fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-24 04:48:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1592213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notenuffcaffeine/pseuds/notenuffcaffeine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Him and Derek were talking about the internet and cameras and stuff," said Scott, shaking his head.  "I think maybe we should tell them."</p>
<p>It was obvious that Lydia didn't approve of that idea.  Her recently pink lips flattened into a line.  "Are they dating yet?"</p>
<p>"Uh... Not that I know of?" The question stumped Scott and he just stared at her for a moment.  When he thought he caught on, he shrugged. "I kinda think Stiles would have sent out flyers or something if he was getting any kind of laid. Take an ad in the paper maybe..."</p>
<p>Distracted, Lydia gave a thoughtful hum and tilted her head like she was suspicious of something. "Especially with Derek."</p>
<p>... or ... </p>
<p>Stiles narrows down the suspects on who put the pack's lives on the internet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's baaack!

Stiles Stilinski stared at his phone screen in the dark. He squinted. He frowned. He jabbed at the screen with his thumb. "Sunuva- I figured it out!"

"Figured what out?" The voice next to him was sleepy and adorable but Stiles was too excited to pay attention. Stiles turned from his side to his back, the arm draped over his ribs making just enough room to let him.

"The thing online-"

Derek blinked at him and pulled his arm away. "Seriously? Now you do this? Now?"

"Well... Yeah... Don't you want to know what the hell is going on that you've got a few thousand people who know your name? Among other things the rest of the pack is currently oblivious to..."

"Yes, but-"

"Look, it's on my phone, see? You didn't even know. But still. Look."

He held the bright screen out for Derek. The werewolf squinted at it in the dark, looking none too pleased. "I see you're reading another fic."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Yeah. But. Who's in it? I mean, this scene."

There was a pause and Derek scanned a few words. "You and Peter?"

Stiles nodded, encouraging. "Yeah. This is one of those creepy fics that has like, _everything_ right. Like they knew where we were and what we did and who the bad guy was and-"

Derek pushed the phone onto the bed, bright-screen facing down, so he could look at Stiles and actually see him. "You think it's Peter writing all this stuff?"

The question was met by a shrug and tentative nod. "All the creepy fics are the ones where he comes out shiny and smart, man. And like half of them are by this same author."

Derek sat up and scrubbed at his face. Stiles caught at him and tugged his arm.

"Sorry, I'll shut up. I thought you'd want to know."

"No, I do," said Derek. He reached under the bed to where the laptop was charging, pulled it up to hand to Stiles. "Look and see when that one started posting stuff."

"I can check on my phone..."

"Faster on laptop," muttered Derek. He wrapped an arm across Stiles's lap and curled back up under the blanket. Stiles blinked at him, grinned, and then tucked in to work.

 

***

 

Things were quiet and Stiles was getting bored. Derek could see it happening and no matter how many faces he made at him, Stiles still broke away from his post at the end of the alley and headed for him. Derek sighed and scowled as he had to watch both ends of the alley for awhile.

"So you left too quick," Stiles said. Derek looked up at him, then over at where Scott was a few yards away.

"Is now the time?" he asked. They were _kind of_ in the middle of stalking some fishy hunters that Allison thought were sneaking around code-breaking. The goal was proof to take to the sheriff. They could only reach that goal if they didn't get busted chattering in the downtime. Stiles shrugged and crouched beside Derek.

"So remember that girl I said was harassing me because I was writing better than her?"

Derek started to nod and then shook his head. "What? No? That's stupid-"

Stiles rolled his eyes and waved it off. "Okay so that was only half her problem, but my point: that's the name that had the first posts. As far as I can find. And she really likes Peter."

"So it's not Peter if it's a girl," said Derek.

That got him scoffed at for his basic misunderstanding of how the internet worked. "It's the internet. Guys can be girls if they want."

Derek smirked. "If it's him, I'm telling him you said that."

"Fine. But that's not the only glitch."

"What?" asked Derek. Stiles looked around, sighting the rest of the pack before looking back to Derek. He kept his voice amazingly quiet.

"There's a couple others that are really creepy too. So either he's got multiple handles, and cameras in my bedroom, or he's working with the pack."

For a long moment, Derek just stared at him. "How many of these things did you read?"

"I dunno, a lot? You gotta read to write and I've had this whole misinformation campaign going..." Stiles scrunched his nose and blushed faintly. "Don't judge, man. This stuff is really pretty good."

Derek's eyebrows said he wasn't judging anything until Stiles told him not to. Stiles shrugged out of it.

"I'm just saying-"

"Go home," Derek told him. "Find the creepy ones. I'll see you when I'm done."

Jaw dropped at the dismissal, Stiles waved at the building they were watching. "But we're on this thing..."

It was Derek's turn to roll his eyes. He arched his eyebrows in his best judgy-fashion and gave Stiles the side-eye. "I think ferreting out spies or cameras is a bit more important than hunter politics."

"Okay, yeah." Stiles nodded.

"So go..."

Stiles started to move away but came back and tugged on Derek's sleeve. "One more thing."

"What?"

"Whose home did you mean? Yours or mine?"

Derek stared at him a moment. Then, "Yours."

Stiles smiled at him, nodded. "Got it."

 

***

 

The next day was Friday. Scott dropped his backpack on the school desk. Everything about him screamed exhaustion, which earned him a sideways look from the perfectly composed Lydia. "That was a bust."

Lydia shrugged and went back to fixing her lipstick with the aid of a compact. "I didn't feel the blood curdling urge to scream. I count that as a big win."

Scott considered it and shrugged. "But we didn't get any proof."

"They'll screw up. They hunt _people_ for a living. That is so morally gray that their minds are in perpetual fogs and they have to trip up sometime," said Lydia. She was completely unconcerned.

"If you say so." Scott shook his head. He leaned toward her slightly, trying to catch her attention. "Look, there was this weird thing that happened-"

Lydia froze and looked at him sideways, color faded from her cheeks despite her make-up. "Weird like _our_ weird or weird like Stiles weird?"

"Stiles weird."

Her relief was visible and she went back to putting away her mirror. "Thank god."

"Well, it has to do with Stiles anyway."

The bell hadn't rung yet and their teacher was in the hall lecturing some punks for disrespecting the dress code. Lydia looked to Scott expectantly. "What? I'm listening."

"Last night? Stiles just took off. Abandoned his post to talk to Derek and then ran off," said Scott. "He sent me a text awhile later saying he got home okay but had some digging to do."

Lydia shrugged. "Well I guess that's not too weird. It sounds like him anyway," she said.

"Him and Derek were talking about the internet and cameras and stuff," said Scott, shaking his head. "I think maybe we should tell them."

It was obvious that Lydia didn't approve of that idea. Her recently pink lips flattened into a line. "Are they dating yet?"

"Uh... Not that I know of?" The question stumped Scott and he just stared at her for a moment. When he thought he caught on, he shrugged. "I kinda think Stiles would have sent out _flyers_ or something if he was getting any kind of laid. Take an ad in the paper maybe..."

Distracted, Lydia gave a thoughtful hum and tilted her head like she was suspicious of something. "Especially with Derek."

Scott shook his head quickly, waved his hands to remove himself from that part of the conversation entirely. "That I wouldn't know."

Lydia rolled her eyes and waved him off. "Derek's sparkling personality completely aside... Trust me. Ad in the paper is not far off."

Scott was still confused. He asked, "What does that have to do with the thing on the internet?"

The question brought Lydia around from her thoughtful place and she shot him a mild glare. "I will not have a bunch of stories chase them off each other," she said. "Derek Hale will clench up like a nun if he finds that stuff."

Scott thought he was going to choke on the accidental mental image. "Seriously? That is so wrong-"

Lydia opened her class book to give him a moment to recover before she looked over at him. "Scott. You do the alpha and the biting and the sideburns thing and I don't question you on it, do I?"

"...no?"

She narrowed her eyes in obvious annoyance. "Then don't cast doubt on my prowess with all things relating to bedroom activities," said Lydia. She lowered her voice. "What if they find that stuff and get some sort of stage fright? They're smart enough but they're _still_ idiots. They'll never figure it out."

Exasperated as well as exhausted, Scott collapsed over his desk. "I think that's kind of _their_ problem."

"Shush! No telling them. That's all." Lydia practically clucked at him, a preening hen with a really sharp beak.

"But-"

She wasn't tolerating back-talk and had her attention focused on the front of the room. "But _No_. Check back with me in a week. Maybe then it will have worked."

" _What_ will?"asked Scott. He kept his seat because the teacher walked in but he still wanted to strangle Lydia on Stiles and Derek's behalf.

"That's for me to know and them to figure out," said Lydia. Scott did not know the girl could be so terrifying with just a smile. He turned away quickly, typing a message to Allison questioning Lydia's sanity.

 

***


	2. Chapter 2

School took forever, which was about on par, and Lydia spent a few hours benevolently doing her weekend's homework in her room. She paused long enough to get ready to go out and then set to reading her English homework as she waited for Allison. They were going out and Allison was driving just to be sure she didn't back out because of family stress. The girl needed a break and she would get one even if Lydia had to drag her by her pretty dark hair. So when her phone rang, Lydia was expecting an announcement that her chauffeur had arrived.

She was not expecting her chauffeur's boyfriend.

"What did you do?" Scott demanded before Lydia had managed a hello. Curious, she set her book down and moved to the window to watch for Allison.

"Uhm. You'll have to be more specific."

Her question seemed to distress Scott more than anything. "Stiles and Derek. I can't find either one of them."

"What?" Lydia asked. He had her attention now. She paced away from the window to be sure she didn't multitask as her mind covered and dismissed a dozen possible explanations for an AWOL Stilinski.

"They're gone," said Scott.

"Well. Who's driving them? Which car did they take?" Lydia asked.

"The jeep. Derek's car is parked where he usually leaves it."

"This is good..." said Lydia, thoughtful. She relaxed and moved back to the window.

"How is this good?" Scott asked, annoyed from his tone. "Stiles won't answer his phone..."

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Yes, because he's driving. And if they're in his car then we know it's not the hunters. Try calling Derek instead."

"Oh my god Lydia-"

Out the window, Allison's car showed up and started down the driveway. Lydia smiled and twirled toward her bedroom door. "It's a Friday night. They're just blowing off some steam," she told Scott. She collected her handbag and jacket and let herself out into the hall. "Something _you_ obviously need to do, too. Call Ally."

"What did you do?" asked Scott, still annoyingly suspicious. Lydia scoffed and sighed.

"Nothing! I haven't had time," she said. She smiled to herself. But if Stiles and Derek had taken off on their own for the weekend without the pack, the good news Lydia chose to take from that was that maybe she didn't need to do anything. If they hadn't sorted it out themselves by now, they would by the end of the weekend. There was no way even Stiles was that dense, even if she did worry about Derek somewhat.

 

***

 

They had to leave town for it to work. The Jeep was too hard to hide and there was no sense spending seventy bucks on a car cover when the old monster would still just scream ‘Roscoe!’ to any passing werewolf who happened to be looking for it. So they went camping. And Stiles started itching for his laptop within seconds of his feet hitting the ground. Literally, itching. It was sundown and he could just feel the mosquitoes salivating for the twinkie he had stolen from Isaac at lunch. Stiles scowled and tugged the back gate of the jeep.

"Your dad is going to kill," said Derek, magically appearing at his shoulder. Stiles jumped, relaxed, and shoved the tent at him. It would give Derek something to think about other than getting skinned by the sheriff of Beacon Hills.

"Nope. I cleared it,” said Stiles. “We're good, buddy."

Derek didn’t look sold at all. "What did you tell him?"

Stiles shrugged and went in after the food. Carrots. Carrots would chase away mosquitoes. "That I think there's a spy in the pack and we're trying to smoke them out."

"And that worked?" asked Derek. Stiles didn’t even have to look back at him; he could hear the eyebrows arched up in doubt. So much doubt, so little faith. Stiles stood up and looked Derek in the eye while crunching on a carrot.

"Yep. It's the truth. I'm good at telling truths."

The sourwolf cracked a grin, even laughed a little. Even if it was at Stiles’ expense, that counted.

"No you're not,” said Derek. He and the tent moved off to find a place to set up camp. “Half the time even that sounds like a lie."

Stiles stared after him, at a loss. "You are a horrible person."

"See? You did it again. I told you," Derek called back over his shoulder.

 

***

 

When Derek slid the door open to his apartment, he interrupted his favorite uncle’s prying into the refrigerator. Peter set an ice cream carton on the counter and turned to stare. Stiles peeked out from behind Derek’s duffel-burdened shoulder and Peter’s carefully-shaped eyebrows climbed up his forehead.

"Where have you been all weekend?" he asked. He headed toward the pair to block off any escape efforts. They made it as far as the couch, eying him just as suspiciously.

"San Francisco..." said Stiles carefully.

"For three days?" asked Peter.

Derek nodded. "Yeah."

Sensing something was up, Peter tilted his head. "The both of you?"

"So?" Derek asked, with just-enough annoyance. Peter crossed his arms.

"What was in San Francisco?"

"Well, we were for three days,” said Stiles with a shrug. He gave an overly dramatic sigh. “But we're not now. The city's a little less bright tonight."

"Uh huh." Peter didn’t want to be put off from what he was chasing and an awkward silence followed. Stiles got antsy. He pulled at Derek’s shoulder to get his attention back.

"Yeah, uh, I guess I'm headed home...” he said. “I gotta talk to dad. I'll be back."

"You sure this was the best idea?" asked Derek. Peter crossed his arms and watched them - studied them - and tried to sort out what the hell was going on right in front of his face. Derek and Stiles ignored him.

"Do you want to talk to him yourself?" Stiles asked, amused by the suggestion. Peter saw his nephew shut up and did not want that to happen.

"About what?" he asked, his attention pinging to Stiles. The teenager just shrugged at him and Peter wanted to kill him.

"Impromptu drunken life decisions,” said Stiles. Why did his voice go lighter? What the hell was that sound in his tone? Stiles sounded... like Scott talking about Allison. Alarms started going off in Peter’s head but Stiles didn’t seem to notice and kept right on rambling. “Best one ever. It's just going to make the living situations a little awkward for awhile but we'll figure something out." Stiles winked at Derek and Peter went wide-eyed and shocked.

"Great," said Peter. "Now you want to translate that for those of us who speak English?"

"Second thought," said Derek suddenly. "I'll go with you to talk to your dad."

Derek left his duffel on the floor by the couch and he and Stiles headed for the door.

"Hey! That was rude... We were talking... What is this about living situations?"

In response, Stiles smirked back at Peter and flipped him off. It wasn't the middle finger of the boy's left hand that caught Peter’s attention but the shiny silver ring on the one next to it. Peter's jaw dropped and he looked to see silver on Derek's left hand too.

"Derek!" Peter's efforts were met by the door sliding closed.

 

***

 

Stiles and Derek sat in the jeep and smirked at the building outside the windshield.

"Now what?"

"Now we wait and see if any crazy stories show up from our suspect," answered Stiles. He shrugged and started up Roscoe.

"And if they don't?"

"We just played the world's laziest early April fools joke on your uncle."

"And?"

" _And_ then we prank the rest of the pack one by one."

"I think you're forgetting that Peter likes to talk."

"Yeah, but come on. Who really likes to listen to him when he does?"

Derek thought about it a moment before he shrugged. "Point."

 

***

 

Two things happened within ten minutes of each other. About three hours after getting back to Stiles’ place, they noticed that their preferred suspect - someone suspiciously hiding under the username _iagozabitch_ \- posted a story making up all sorts of ridiculous things Stiles and Derek had done on their magical-elopement-tour of San Francisco. Stiles had started out reading it aloud but very quickly had to stop because 1) his dad could hear him, 2) he was too busy laughing to remember to breathe and read at the same time, and 3) well, damn, some of it he wished they’d really done.

“He’s got some good ideas, I’ll give him that,” Stiles commented mildly. Derek scoffed but Stiles noticed he did not argue.

“Pretty certain we found our spy though,” he said. Stiles nodded. Then his cell phone rang. And Derek’s cell phone chimed that he had a text message.

“Lydia,” reported Stiles, checking the caller ID on his phone. Derek checked his and raised an eyebrow.

“Scott,” he said. Stiles blinked and made grabby hands at the phone to see what Scott had said.

“Are you going to answer Lydia?” asked Derek, confused. Stiles seemed to have forgotten and nodded.

“Right...” He caught it just before it went to voicemail and put it on speaker. “Yo!”

“Where are you?” came Lydia’s voice through the speakers, crystal clear and quite suspicious.

“Uh. My house,” said Stiles. He was slightly distracted reading the text Scott had sent Derek: WHERE ARE YOU?!@

“Really?” asked Lydia. “You weren’t there yesterday.”

“Nope.” Stiles spun around in his chair a bit, the phone twirling with him because they hadn’t just caught one spy, they had caught three.

“So? Where were you?”

“Camping,” Stiles reported.

“Camping?” Lydia echoed. “Who went with you?”

“Uh, nobody?” said Stiles. “Nobody ever wants to go camping with me. I complain the whole time about no wi-fi and Scott’s still not over that one time I accidentally dropped a s'more on his phone and burned the case and-”

“Stiles. Why would you go camping by yourself?”

“Because I just told you. It’s a thing I do when I need to get away from people,” said Stiles. Derek was looking at him suspiciously over the top of the laptop screen and Stiles winked at him. To Lydia on the phone he said, “Why are you suddenly taking roll-call?”

“Because you didn’t tell Scott so now he won’t leave everybody alone about where you went,” said Lydia, prim and sounding disappointed. “You should call him and tell him you’re back.”

“Oookay, if you say so, Lydia,” said Stiles. He was placating, far too happy, and she huffed and said her goodbyes. Stiles cackled as he tossed his cell phone onto the bed next to where Derek sat. He turned his attention to Derek’s cellphone then.  
Derek looked curiously between the two phones. “And now we tell Scott...”

“That you and me took on Frisco.”

“Why?”

“To start a war.” Stiles looked up at him like it was the most obvious thing. Derek blinked back at him.

“A war?” he echoed. Stiles nodded, waved it off.

“Trust me.”

 

***

 

Five minutes later there was an essay posted in the comments under the fic about the San Francisco elopement. Somebody under the handle _Banshrieka_ called Peter (aka _iagozabitch_ ) a liar and then proceeded to outline all the various reasons why 1) Stiles would never go to San Francisco to get married and 2) why Stiles was probably just camping that weekend to get away from idiots like _iagozabitch_ and 3) well, at least it was fun to read anyway but please keep the characters canon. Stiles pointed to _Banshrieka_ on the screen and looked to Derek.

“And that would be Lydia,” he said simply. Derek pointed to the newest comment to show up under it as they were reading the essay. Somebody named _wolfnrox182_.

“Dude. They went to San Francisco. It totally happened,” Stiles read off. He then promptly fell off the bed laughing.

“So that’s Scott?” Derek called down to him.

 

***

 

Stiles didn't sleep that night. He texted back and forth with Derek because Peter was an ass who kept trying to make Derek talk. And he texted Scott, danced all around the topic of where he had been all weekend. And he stared at the rings on the corner of his desk. They had been borrowed-without-asking from his dad; one was his high school ring and the other his academy ring. Around Peter they had turned the gems in to hide in their palms and the result was a pair of simple bands that pretty much matched. They didn't have to say a _word_ to get people to write a few _thousand_ of them. It was creepy. But it was power. If Stiles was honest, he liked it.

The other thing he did that night was write a wonderful little story about what he and Derek had really done that weekend. There was fireside food and a failed attempt at ghost stories - no, seriously, never try to scare a werewolf with campfire horror stories because the only thing it accomplishes is to terrify the storyteller - and Derek tried to teach Stiles how to fish without a fishing pole but that was a lesson in futility that left the fish laughing and Derek soaked. S'mores happened. And sunshine snoozes happened. Stiles left off the details Derek would kill him for including in a public place.

But then he added the proof, which Derek would kill him for anyway, and that happily left it up to everyone's imaginations. Stiles had snuck a picture of Derek when he had taken a cat-nap in the middle of the day after the ill-fated fishing attempt. After a quick run through Photoshop, he added it to the story as "fan art" like he had seen others do dozens of times. The only people who would suspect authenticity were the spies in the pack. Stiles dedicated it to the three suspects, posted it to the archive, and passed out in his own bed around 3am.

His dad woke him up for school about fifteen minutes before Stiles had to be there. He slept through alarms and his dad talking to him, didn't wake up fully until the sheriff asked about the spies.

"Caught 'em," Stiles confirmed. He buried his face in his pillow and turned over.

"Mind telling me why you needed my school rings to catch them?" his dad asked. Stiles bolted out of bed then, barely awake but conscious. He scrambled to pry one of the rings out of his dad's hand.

"Not done yet," he said. "Still need this one."

He made it to school before the bell. First class he sat next to Allison. She looked at him, a little worried, but didn't say anything. Isaac hissed at him, "Are you okay? You look like shit..."

Stiles stared back at him. "Thanks, man. Appreciate it."

He felt safe ruling them out of the conspiracy.

Between classes, he slipped the ring on his middle finger for artistic license. Sure enough, the second he sat down, Lydia and Scott gave him their full attention.

"You lied," Lydia informed him. "So did you go to the city or did you go camping?"

"City," said Scott. He tugged at Stiles' hand to show the ring as proof. Stiles pulled free and shook his head.

"Camping." He rolled his wrist to show the bezel of the ring hidden in his palm. "And that is definitely my dad's POST Academy ring."  
Scott dropped _the proof_ like he had been burned. Lydia glared at him with an intensity Stiles had never seen from her - and that was saying something - but he just grinned, smug. The teacher called class to order and the rest of the period was murderously awkward.  
Between classes, they pounced again.

"Since when do you wear rings?" Lydia asked.

"Since when do you notice?" returned Stiles. Lydia had no easy answer for that. She shut her mouth and collected her books.

"Dude, come on," complained Scott. "Just tell us. Did you go to San Francisco or not?"

"Not. I went camping," said Stiles.

They started walking to their next class. Scott managed to look like a kicked puppy and guilty as sin simultaneously. "Peter told us you went to San Francisco and came back married."

"Peter told you?" Stiles shook his head. "Let's just break that sentence down, word by word, until you figure out how stupid it is."

"Yeah, but Derek said he went to the city..." The defense was met with a grin from Stiles and Scott caught on. "He didn't go to the city."

"And he and I will accept apologies in the form of cash or baked goods," said Stiles, "For all the bullshit you guys helped Peter start online."  
Lydia harrumphed at him but didn't say anything. Scott went back to his guilty-face.

"Yep, thought so," said Stiles. "And since inquiring minds want to know, there is a complete and accurate account of our weekend online. In the usual place."

Stiles nearly tripped over Scott when Lydia calmly pulled out her phone and started browsing the internet while they walked.

 

***

 

When Derek got back from the grocery store - with real food for the cupboards and fridge instead of just Peter's ice cream stash - he found his uncle crashed on the couch with the laptop.

"Goddamn kids messing up everything..." seemed to be the general gist of Peter's existence that afternoon.

"Having problems with your little online gaming community?" Derek asked, cheerful.

"What do you care?" returned Peter, sour. "You won't even tell me where you were this weekend."

"Considering it was this weekend, in the _past-tense_ , I don't see how it matters to you," said Derek.

"We've been over that," Peter said. He set the laptop aside and sat up to argue more effectively. "You came back talking about living arrangements needing changed and oh-by-the-way wearing matching rings with Stiles..."

Derek held up his hand, palm toward his uncle, smile on his face as he wiggled his fingers. "No rings."

"You're playing at something," said Peter. "And for the record, it is rude _and_ annoying. Lydia says Stiles went camping by himself and Scott says you were in the city..."

"I find it disturbing that you're on any kind of conversational basis with Lydia Martin," said Derek. "And _for the record,_ dating usually happens before eloping to the city and I'm pretty sure you have never seen Stiles and I go on a date."

"I think two nights camping counts as a date," returned Peter snidely.

"Now you're sold on this camping thing, so what does it matter what I tell you? You won't believe me." Derek went back to putting food away. Peter went suspiciously quiet and walked over to the kitchen. The laptop scraped across the island toward Derek.

"The camping thing came with photographic evidence, even I tend to believe what I see," said Peter. Derek eyed his uncle, suspicious, before looking to the laptop. He saw the heavily filtered photo and muttered threats against Stiles' young life. He pointed to the ring barely visible in the "fan art" pic.

"That's doctored," said Derek, mulish suddenly. It was enough for Peter.

"Derek... Come on, m'boy... Don't hold out on your favorite uncle..." Peter said, sing-song and gloating. "You took that annoying little brat on a date to the woods to make like-"

"I'm not sure where to start with everything wrong in what you just said," interrupted Derek.

"Come on! It's right here on the internet..."

"And everything on the internet is true?" Derek asked. He had the groceries put away and slapped the laptop closed. "Particularly when you write it?"

"Okay, I started a _movement_ online. Created a safe-haven for everything wild and woolly in Beacon Hills," said Peter. "You kids have never been so safe. You owe me."

Derek was not impressed. "You put our lives online. Our faces. Actual things we said. We don't owe you for that."

"Lydia said it was genius," Peter defended mildly.

"Lydia wasn't matched up with the loud-mouthed, hyperactive, sheriff's kid by a few thousand pieces of artwork and stories," returned Derek. He didn't sound annoyed enough and added a little extra glare to back it up.

Peter shrugged. "Actually, she is sometimes. It's cute. I think the stories where she's matched up with Allison are better though. I mean, have you ever seen those two together? Damn..." He quieted under Derek's glare. "Shutting up."

Derek held the laptop up. "No more writing about us. Any of us."

"I will definitely _not_ do that," said Peter, his tone a little too smug and his meaning a little too vague.

"Stiles knows who you are." Derek added to the warning. "And you got mad at him for writing better than you."

Peter's eyes bugged. "He's that little-"

"He said you're a girl online," said Derek. "And you asked him out two weeks ago when I told you to-"

"I did not-" The lie was cut off by common sense or futility and Peter shrugged. "Okay I might have."

Derek glared at him. " _Don't_ do it again."

Peter's face brightened up into a sly grin. "Lydia will be so proud of you..."

 

***

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ the end ~


End file.
